Page 60 of Crazy Pucking Love
She laughed, and the sound was so foreign yet familiar that I couldn’t help staring in shock. “Don’t look so surprised. It’s possible you’re not the only one who can be a judgmental asshole. I know I’m a bit of a mess—but a hot mess.”
I could agree with that, but for some reason verbally agreeing seemed like betraying Megan, even though we weren’t in an official relationship. My thoughts were getting all jumbled, and the nostalgia and…seriously, if I didn’t sleep soon, I’d simply flop over on the step, and maybe enough passersby would think I was a bum that they’d throw change my way.
“I’m sorry about Lissa,” Jaz said, her voice much quieter. “I thought I could keep her safer than that.”
Worry rose up and tightened my gut. “Safer than…? Has she passed out at parties? Are there guys I need to hunt down and kill?”
“I meant with the cops busting her—I’ve kept her safe from the other at least, and I swear I will.”
Just the thought of what could happen—of the life-destroying fire she was playing with—sent every protective impulse into overdrive. “I know you’ll mean to. But I’d feel better if both of you stayed away from that crowd. If you found healthier hobbies.”
“Like hockey?” The attitude was back, the lip-purse in full effect. Even before I left for BC, Jazmine occasionally referred to hockey as the other woman in our relationship.
“Hey, don’t slam it until you try it.”
The door banged open, and Mom poked her head out. “I made you some lun—oh, hey, Jazmine.”
“Mrs. Kowalski.”
“You want lunch? It’s nothing fancy—just sandwiches.”
Jazmine stood and brushed off the seat of her jeans. “No thanks. I better get home.” She took a step and abruptly turned back to my mom, a grave expression on her face. “I’m sorry about Lissa. It’s my fault, and I feel horrible.”
Mom pressed her lips into a tight line. “I know you’ve got a lot on your plate, but honey, I’m afraid she’s not going to be able to hang out with you for quite some time.”
Jazmine nodded, hung her head, and slowly walked away.
Even after all we’d been through, I still had to fight the urge to run after her and try to make it better. Which just showed how little I could trust my instincts whenever I was around Jazmine.
I wanted to help my family, but I also wanted to get out of here as fast as I possibly could. Before I got sucked back into the drama.
Not that I was doing so great at avoiding it in Boston, and a voice that clearly hated me whispered I should stop selfishly holding on to Megan before I ended up hurting her, too.
Chapter Thirty
Megan
The robust flavor of the coffee promised the kick I craved, but so far I wasn’t feeling invigorated, or awake, or anything but melancholy.
Since Dane wasn’t here to do it for me, I pilfered the sugar from the caddy on the next table over. I added those four packets to the other four I’d already stirred into the dark brown liquid and took a sip.
Tasted nice and sweet, but I didn’t feel an empowering jolt.
I pulled out my phone and scrolled to Dane’s number, my finger hovering over the message bubble. Then I remembered coming around the corner of the high school to hear Brandon, my asshole ex, telling the guys how many texts I’d sent him.
“Wow, you must’ve rocked her world,” Asshole Number Two said.
“Not really,” I’d said, forcing my voice to be firm so it wouldn’t crack and give away the hurt spreading through my chest. “But he’s pretty good at cuddling, so I hoped the other would improve over time.”
Asshole Two and Asshole Three scattered, snickering as they went on their way.
And how had my boyfriend defended himself? He shrugged and said, “Sorry, babe. I was kind of over us anyway.” Or in other words, “I got what I wanted and now I’m out”—I still regretted not putting Beckett’s punching lessons to use that morning.
Not a week later Asshole Two asked me if I wanted to “hang out,” his stupid expression making it clear he thought I’d be an easy hookup. Judging by the way several other guys approached me after that, word had obviously spread—one of my so-called friends told me a group of guys had started a competition about who could sleep with me next. Which led to the party with the drunken video and puking on the lawn incident. It also upgraded the spark of an idea about escaping the crap by getting my GED and starting college earlier to a full-blown outlined plan.
I dropped my head onto my open textbook, like that would dislodge the bad memories and expel them for good. The point was, those events shook my confidence, and I tried to tell myself that Dane wasn’t over me now that we’d had sex. After all, he’d missed class today. That spoke to something bigger going on in his life.
I wanted to check in, but I thought of those guys mocking my multiple texts, and how pushing for more information wouldn’t be casual, light, and fun behavior.
